


let's play a game (a really fun game)

by Skrigget



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Mind Games, Peter is a Little Shit, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is just a game to Peter – and when is it not? – then Killian can play along, do his part and tell himself that he does not enjoy it in the slightest. </p><p>As soon as Peter opens his mouth, Killian realizes the game has already begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's play a game (a really fun game)

**Author's Note:**

> Read the warnigs!  
> Also, this is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I have no idea what this is? Seriously. What is this? I have no idea.

Peter laughs, tilting his head to the side and his eyes never leaving Killian’s body. A smirk is curling on his red, red lips and it sends a shiver down Killian’s spine despite the fact that it is the boy – the demon, the devil – who is chained to the wall.

“I ought to congratulate you,” Peter says, still smirking, now even wider, and even crueler.

Killian narrows his eyes, clenches his hand and inhales sharply. “You walked right into the trap.” It is a cold statement that makes the captain hiss in annoyance and disgust.

“Well,” Peter says, “that was the point of it, wasn’t it? To trap me. Am I missing something?”

“You know what I mean,” Killian hisses, nails digging into his palm, making it itch and burn with pain.

“It was just such a good trap, Captain, that it actually worked this time.” Peter’s smirk turns into a smile that reaches his sparkling, green, demonic eyes. “Congratulation, Killian.”

Killian feels hatred rush through his veins like a strong poison and his teeth grit, his head pounding heavily. He looks at the little demon; shining eyes, sharp teeth, cunning smile, careless look on his face and the sound of chains rattling every time he moves his wrists a bit.

Killian wants to reach out and slit Peter’s throat with his hook; the hook that catches the moonlight and reflects it. It is like a sudden urge that makes the breath in his throat hitch. Judging by the way Peter lift his eyebrows up, up, up in a mocking gesture Peter knows exactly what is going on in the captain’s mind and also judging by the way his head tilts even further to the side and the way he bites his lip, he enjoys it. Enjoys it in that sick, masochistic way that only the little devil can.

The urges only grow stronger. Stronger and more demanding. They make his skin crawl and his fingers shake. He needs to move, he needs to get closer so he can reach out and –

He stops a few inches away from the boy, his hook lingering on Peter’s jaw, his hand resting heavily on Peter’s shoulder just where it meets the neck, his thumb pressing in, bruising the pale, white skin. He blinks and pulls away a few inches but doesn’t move neither hook nor hand.

Their eyes meet and Peter looks positively evil. He looks more like the devil than ever before and Killian is actually, despite of the fact that Peter is the one bound to the wall, truly afraid.

“Come on,” Peter’s voice taunts lowly but clearly. “Do it.”

Killian swallows hard, presses harder with his thumb but does not dare move the hook even an inch. Peter’s face splits into a grin. It makes Killian’s heart miss several beats for reasons he cannot begin to comprehend.

“You have me right where you wanted me,” Peter apparently feels the need to clarify. Killian should agree but he doesn’t. “Do it, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Killian inhales sharply and moves back, releases his grip, removes his hook and stands back up from the floor, where Peter watches him with those hateful eyes that haunt Killian’s every waking moment of the day. Night, too. But he will do anything not to admit that to anyone, least of all himself.

“What game are you playing?” Killian hisses, standing away and above the boy but he still feels like he is the one who is caught.

“A really fun game,” Peter says, that smile never leaving his face.

Killian grits his teeth again. Peter bites his lip, runs his tongue over his bottom lip slowly. Killian feels sick. Sick with a new, horrible urge and need and –

“Come on,” Peter taunts again, “prove what kind of man you really are.”

“By killing you?” Killian tries to sound provocative but it comes out uncertain as if he asking permission.

“I like action,” Peter whispers.

Killian shudders and curses himself. He lifts his hook, hopes to appear lethal but doubts that it works. When Peter only lifts one eyebrow, not even looking at the hook, Killian knows he fails.

“Your little minions would be onboard my ship in a matter of seconds if I did that,” Killian hears himself say.

“Why do you think that?” Peter asks and he sounds curious. “Obviously, if they knew where I was or knew how to free me,” he smirks, “they would have done so by now, my dear Captain.”

“Do not lie to me, Pan.” Killian takes a single step closer.

“I do not lie,” Peter answers easily. “This is just game, isn’t it?”

“Then I do not like this kind of game,” Killian admits aloud, sounding like a scared little boy and hating every second of it.

Peter moves forward slightly making the chains rattle. “Oh, but I do.”

Killian sees Peter lift his right food, he sees it move closer and he has a split-second where he wonders if Peter is going to actually kick him but then –

Then it settles against his clothed groan and Killian stops breathing. Peter inhales, looks like he smells the air, licks his lips and then moves the food. Killian starts breathing again but only to gasp silently. His eyes widen. Cold blue and vibrating green meet and Killian just cannot look away.

For several long, freezing moments Killian seems absolutely paralyzed, just standing there as Peter continues to move his foot up and down, sending shivers of pure, almost agonizing, pleasure through Killian’s body like waves of heat.

Then he blinks and it is almost like waking up from a dream. A nightmare, he tells himself, but the lie is so strong it tastes bitter on the top of his tongue.

He takes a step back; stumbles, his legs uncertain, his breath going wild and his eyes so wide they seem to be able to pop right out of his head. The look makes Peter laugh, loud and maniac.

“What do think you’re doing?” Killian’s voice is already broken and hoarse, clouded with fear, hate and arousal.

Peter laughs again and it is, without a doubt, the most terrifying sound Killian has ever heard. And he held his dying brother in his arms, listened to the sound of Liam gagging and choking on his own blood.

“You should not have to ask that question, my dear Captain,” Peter answers mockingly. “Need I remind you that you are the adult and that I,” he licks his lips again, “am nothing but a boy?”

Killian feels even sicker. However, he also feels more drawn. It almost physically hurts to stay a foot away from the boy’s hellish touch.

“You are not a boy,” Killian hisses. “You are a demon.”

Peter’s eyes glint. “Then do teach me a lesson, Killian.”

Killian swallows hard, drawing blood from the way his nails digs into his own flesh and breaks the skin. “You have no idea what you are implying.”

“I am not implying anything,” Peter states flatly. “You caught me. Either to kill me or to punish me, I presume. And we just established that killing me was not your intent so we can only assume that punishment is what comes next.”

Killian takes a step closer before he even properly registers what is going on. He is suddenly on the floor, in front of Peter, pushing the boy back against the wall with his hand roughly. His hook presses into Peter’s temple enough to draw a few single drops of blood that run down his face.

“Do not tempt me, boy,” he hisses with his face so close to Peter’s that their breaths mingle. “You do not know the first thing about me.”

“Oh, but you know everything there is to know about me,” Peter says without missing a beat, “so you know that I am nothing but a demon.”

“The devil,” Killian corrects.

Peter lifts one eyebrow. “The devil,” he agrees then. “Why not kill the devil? At least do some – “ His face moves so suddenly and he presses his cold, red lips against Killian’s jaw. “ _Punishment_.”

The words practically vibrates on Killian’s skin. It seems to be an almost physically thing and it curls around him and engulfs him in a heat of pleasure and sin. He bites down on his lip harshly and somehow – from somewhere unknown to himself – finds the strength to lean away from the devil’s touch.

Peter just continues smiling, those teeth shimmering in the pale moonlight, his skin appearing almost transparent – so white, so fragile – but it is an illusion. Just as everything with this boy is an illusion, a game of make believe. Killian knows this, so why is his still trying to figure out Peter, why is he trying to make sense of this creature with the face of a teenager, the personality of a demon and several hundred years of living to top it all?

“Do not tempt me,” Killian hisses again but Peter only smirk and tilts his head. Killian spits on the boy’s face in a last attempt at keeping some dignity but as it hits Peter’s beautiful features and slides down his face, Peter only throws his head back and laughs louder and more maniac than ever before.

Killian is on his feet in a matter of second, stumbling a few steps away from the creature in front of him. His heart is hammering with a fear he cannot explain.

Killian shakes his head, once, and then turns around to leave the demon alone. Just as he grabs the door, he hears Peter’s voice behind him: “I will wait right here, Killian.”

Killian slams the door shut behind him.

-*-*-

It is only a matter of time before he returns and they both know it.

Killian leaves the boy alone for two days. He does not give him food or anything to drink but he doubts it makes a difference to the supernatural creature. For all he knows, the boy is actually gone.

Of course he isn’t. And when Killian, in the dead of the night, finally decides to return every step closer to the cabin feels like tightening the rope around his own neck. He shakes his head, feeling stupid, but being unable to let the feeling go nevertheless.

He opens the door with a slam and is not in the slightest surprised to find Peter’s eyes wide open; the boy wide-awake and smirking like the demon he truly is.

If this is just a game to Peter – and when is it not? – then Killian can play along, do his part and tell himself that he does not enjoy it in the slightest. He can punish the boy if that if he wants. On the other hand, Killian can pretend it is not a game, he can pretend that he really means it – everything he is about to do – but it will never be anything else than that; pretend. Make believe. A game.

As soon as Peter opens his mouth, Killian realizes the game has already begun.

“What do you want?” the boy asks and he actually sounds human for once. He sounds a little hoarse, a little afraid and even a bit sleepy. Killian is not so easily fooled but what does any of it matter?

He grins, showing his own row of teeth, before he steps into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him loudly. Peter flinches but Killian sees the cruel smirk hiding in the corner of his red lips. It makes a rush of sudden anger boil inside him.

Killian sits down in front of Peter, entirely illuminated by the light from the full moon. Killian can see his face clearly. He studies the boy’s eyes, his nose, his forehead, his cheekbones and his red, sinful lips.

“What do you want?” Peter asks and this time he sounds angry, annoyed, and it makes Killian smile in real delight at the sound and at the sight.

Killian grabs Peter by his hair and yanks his head back violently, making the boy hiss and it might just be genuine as well. Killian inhales deeply, yanking on Peter’s hair further. He leans forward until his nose is dancing along Peter’s neck, inhaling deeply, before he replaces the nose with his mouth. Peter hisses again and Killian chuckles.

He is losing his mind, he decides for himself as he licks a stripe all the way to Peter’s jaw, over his lips and to his right eye. He must be losing his mind but he enjoys this too much to care.

Peter shudders; maybe it is out of fear, maybe it is out of pleasure, Killian has no idea and he does not care. He will play his part in this twisted mind-game and then they will never, ever do something like this. That is what he has decided.

“What are you doing?” Peter says and Killian can feel him swallowing hard. “Stop.”

“Come on,” Killian whispers against his ear. “You said so yourself. I need to punish you.”

Peter curses and tries to knee Killian in the groan. The move makes Killian exhale deeply before he presses the hook against Peter’s throat in a clear warning.

“That was not – not this!” Peter sounds actually terrified. Killian loves the tone of his voice, loves how it breaks, how it trembles, he loves every single second of it. “Stop.”

Killian moves his free hand to Peter’s shirt and in once swift movement he rips it open. Then he runs his hand down Peter’s torso, feeling the boy shiver under his cold touch.

“Stop,” Peter hisses again through gritted teeth. “Enough.”

“It will never be enough,” Killian murmurs as he leans down and places his mouth on Peter’s skin once more. He tastes him as he licks, sucks and kisses the boy’s chest and stomach almost desperately. Peter has gone silent but as soon as Killian’s hand travel lower, he gasps and tries to close his legs.

“Stop!” he says and he sounds positively scared. “Captain, don’t.”

Killian only laughs before he starts rubbing Peter through the material of his trousers. Peter turns his head away and closes his eyes, his teeth gritted and his fists clenched. The sight is absolutely intoxicating and Killian leans forward and places rough kisses on Peter’s neck and torso once more.

Then he pulls away as if to examine what his efforts have done so far.

Peter looks frightened. His eyes are turned away and his body is shaking slightly. It would be convincing if not for the fact that Killian knows that if it really came to it, Peter would rather fight, spit and curse than give up easily and pray for it all to be over soon.

Peter is a fighter until the end and even if Killian hates that, he also admires that about the boy. Peter will not give up so long as he continues to breathe.

The reminder that all of this, all those little gasps of fear and the shivers of fear, are nothing but play-pretend makes Killian boil with rage again and when he bites down on Peter’s neck he actually drawls blood.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the boy curses and for the first time Killian is certain that the reaction he reaped from the boy is true. It makes him bite harder. Peter hisses and Killian can feel his entire body tense, probably with anger. Killian waits for him to break character and shove Killian away and tell him to behave but it never happens. So Killian sits back slightly so he can force Peter’s pants out of the way.

“No!” the boy shouts so suddenly Killian actually stops and stares. Peter’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted.

“Afraid, boy?” Killian hears himself ask.

“Don’t,” Peter begs as he tries to close his legs once more.

“You said so yourself,” Killian murmurs, “you need to be punished.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Peter says. “I wasn’t –“

“Keep talking, Pan, but I’m not listening, mate.”

“Killian, _stop_!”

Killian yanks the pants the last bit of the way and throws them somewhere else. Peter is now completely naked in front of him, afraid and chained to the wall, skin illuminated by the moonlight and his eyes glistening with unshed tears and he has never looked more beautiful, Killian thinks as he moans.

He palms his own dick through his clothes and Peter swallows hard again, his eyes darting to what Killian is doing. When the pirate notices, he smirks.

He positons himself between Peter’s legs and grabs his dick with his hand roughly. When Peter yelps, Killian is unsure about whether the reaction is real or not and it annoys him. He grits his teeth, furrows his eyebrows and meets Peter’s wide eyes. Then he gives Peter’s dick a rough squeeze that has to hurt. When the boy inhales sharply and Killian sees the momentarily hatred in his eyes instead of the fear, he wants to laugh aloud in delight. Instead, however, he sits back.

He opens his zipper, nothing more, and then he lift his hand and spits into his palm. Peter stiffens and Killian lifts one eyebrow questioningly.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice a comical mixture between real anger and fake fear. It makes the yearning, the need, the urge inside of Killian flame to life.

“It has to hurt,” Killian tells him, “it has to be a punishment, right?”

“You-“

“Now, now,” Killian interrupts as he rubs his dick with his hand, moaning in pleasure, “behave.”

Peter opens his mouth once more but then Killian pushes inside him and he stops speaking altogether for a long, holy moment. Killian is only half-way in but Peter is so tight and he moans loudly.

“Stop,” Peter hisses, “do _not_ move.”

One of Peter’s hands grabs at Killian’s shoulder roughly, his long nails digging into the flesh and skin. Killian grabs it and tightens his grip to a point where he is actually afraid the boy’s arm might break. The thought sends shivers of delight through Killian and he tightens it further.

The tip of his hook, pressed against Peter’s throat the entire time, he presses just slightly, enough to make Peter shudder and hiss and enough to make him bleed. It never stops to amaze Killian that this demon boy _can_ actually bleed at all.

Killian pushes the rest of the way in, groaning loudly. Peter’s chokes on the air and his entire body stiffens. Killian smirks, enjoying the sight in front of him too much, he knows. He simply cannot help himself. He pulls out slightly only to slam back in.

Peter gasps loudly, his legs tightening around Killian’s back. “Stop,” he begs, a tear sliding down his face. “Just stop!”

He sight of the broken boy – fake or not – makes Killian moan loudly and he starts to thrust into Peter more earnestly. At first, the boy is so tight and dry, it is actually uncomfortable but with east thrust it gets better until it feels almost impossible to hold back anymore.

At this point, Peter is biting his lip not to cry out. His eyes are shut tightly. His entire body is shaking. His hands are clenched, his lower lip is bleeding, he has a few tears in his eyelashes and he keeps begging Killian to “just stop, fucking stop, no, it _hurts_ , no more, no more” and Killian drinks up all of it – the sight, the words – like the alcoholic he is.

The end comes too soon. It is simply too good. Killian quickens his paste and Peter chokes on a scream. Killian slams into him once, twice and then he comes with a loud shout, filling the crying boy with his semen.

He is breathing heavily, his body is shaking from the orgasm and he waits several minutes before he moves and pulls out. Peter hisses and immediately pulls his legs to him. Killian only rolls his eyes and stands up. He closes the zipper and runs his hand through his hair.

He looks down at Peter and is surprised to see him curled up. His arms are wrapped around his body as much as the chains allow it. He is still shaking, he isn’t looking at Killian and his eyes are closed.

Killian just stares.

He is unsure of what to do now.

Surely, it has all just been a game of play-pretend and as usual, Peter takes it too far. That is all. It simply has to be. There is no other alternative. Because, because if it isn’t, then...

Then Peter is not the devil, Killian is.

He shakes his head and takes a step back, away from the shaking mess of a boy on the floor in front of him with Killian’s come sliding out of his ass.

“Pan,” he hears himself whisper.

“Go,” Peter says with a voice that is hoarse from screaming and begging. “Go away.”

“Stop it,” Killian orders but Peter stays exactly where he is, still crying, still shaking. Still broken. “Peter – “

“Just _go_!” Peter shouts desperately before he flinches and curls further into himself.

Killian feels sick. He has never felt like this before. He has never felt so, so dirty and as disgusting as he does in this very moment.

Killian leaves, practically running out of the room and onto the deck where he throws up.

-*-*-

He leaves the boy alone the next day. He is unsure of what to do. The whole thing is a mess, a misunderstanding. But a misunderstanding so great that it makes his inside crawl. He wants to go back in time. He wants to apologize and he wants to explain. None of it will matter, of course, nothing will mater. Killian ruined him. Captain Hook finally broke Peter Pan, and he has never felt worse.

After dinner, he slowly makes his way down to the cabin. He hesitates outside the door, once again unsure of what to do. He wants to run away but he knows that is not an option. With a heavy heart and downcast eyes, he opens the door slowly.

Inside he finds Peter naked, dirty, dried blood on his face and torso, with bruises on his right arm and eyes red from crying.

Killian stops dead in his track. He stops and stares in disbelief at the eternal boy, the king of Neverland, the demon, the devil, the ruler of make believe and play pretend, the child thief and the greatest enemy Killian has ever faced. He stares at the mess he has become.

“Pan,” he says before he swallows. “How… how are you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Peter hisses.

He is angry. The anger is not a good sign because –

Because the anger means it must be _real_. Anger is Peter’s own emotion, a real emotion. Peter is actually sitting there, chained, hurt and broken. He is sitting there and it is all Killian’s doing. The captain feels sick but he swallows it all down for now.

“This was not supposed to happen,” he tries to explain.

When Peter laughs coldly, he flinches. “What the fuck was supposed to happen then?” he asks harshly but he still sounds afraid and hoarse.

“Pan, please understand,” Killian says and he hates himself for it. He moves forward and watches as Peter tries to move away from him. “I am sorry.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Peter repeats but this time his voice is shaking.

Killian hates himself. He moves forward and sits down in front of Peter. “I will get some water and soap. We will clean this mess off you. You – “

“You think cleaning me will be enough?” Peter asks lowly. “You think, getting rid of the evidence will mean it never happened?”

Killian flinches again. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispers.

There is silence from the boy and Killian is too ashamed to look up. He just sits there, with his hand and hook in his lap. The silence stretches on and on between them until a loud sound – a laugh – makes it snap like a twig in the wind.

Killian suddenly finds himself pushed down on his back with Peter sitting on top on him. One of Peter’s hands is holding a knife and the other is holding on to Killian’s hook.

He laughs again.

“My dear, dear Killian,” he whispers once the laughter dies down. “My dear, dear Captain Hook.”

Killian is too stunned to do anything but gape at the grinning boy on top of him. The boy who barely a few seconds ago was crying and afraid, the victim of this whole thing, who is now sitting on Killian like a king sitting on his throne after his golden victory.

Killian’s blood runs cold when the blade of the knife is pressed against his throat.

“You…” Killian says.

“Me,” Peter agrees. His eyes are shining with something inhuman, his teeth seem long and sharp and despite the fact that he is so much smaller than Killian, he is strong in that very moment; so terrifyingly strong.

“I thought…”

“Oh, I know what you thought,” Peter muses lightly, as if this is all some big game. “It was very amusing.”

“You little –“

“Now, now,” Peter says, “ _behave_.”

Killian hisses at having his own words thrown back at him now in a situation like this.

“You ought to have figured it out,” Peter murmurs as he leans down a bit, pressing Killian into the floor. “It was all a game, we were just pretending. Only, you forgot.”

“I thought –“

“You thought you could actually hurt me,” Peter laughs. He is close now, too close. His lips are almost touching Killian’s. “That is amusing, actually,” Peter whispers, his hot breath warming Killian’s lips. “Very amusing, indeed.”

Killian feel his confusion and hurt, despair and guilt wash away like a lightning has struck his body. He shouts and tries to free his hook from Peter’s grip but the boy – the demon, the devil – hardly seems to register the captain’s struggle. He just adjusts his position on his body slightly and straightens his back again.

“Well,” Peter says, “I would say I won that one, wouldn’t you?”

“Careful,” Killian hisses, his body itching with a hate so strong it feels like it sets fire to his raging body, “I may only have one hand but I promise you, _boy_ , I will struck you dead with my hook one day. Even demons can be killed. I assure you.”

Peter smiles, almost sweetly, and then he releases Killian’s hand with the hook so suddenly the captain freezes. Peter laughs, then, loud and piercing. Killian regains his senses and lashes out but only finding the empty air.

He sits up and looks around.

Peter is leaning casually against one of the walls of the cabin, wearing clothes, dirt, come, blood and bruises long gone. Any traces of tears and fear have disappeared completely.

“Play fair,” Killian hisses.

“My,” Peter mocks, “where would the fun be in that, Captain?”

“You little devil!”

“So you say,” Peter only smiles. He is throwing his knife into the air, catching is easily, repeating this motion carelessly, carefree over and over again, never breaking eye contact with Killian. “I must say, I am intrigued by how utterly distressed you seemed at the idea of hurting me.”

He suddenly appears right in front of Killian.

“Kill me, you say? Strike me down with your own hook, I would like to see that.”

Suddenly he is behind the captain.

“It sounds like a fun game to play.”

He reappears in front of the man.

“Winner gets it all.”

“What nonsense are you talking now, boy?” Killian asks. His anger gives way for pure agony and tiredness. It seeps into his body and bones like a poison, making his head fussy and his limps heavy.

“No nonsense, I assure you,” Peter says. Then he tilts his head and watches the captain. “Well,” he says, “I suppose we have played enough games for now, would you not agree, Captain?”

“Go away,” Killian hisses. “Or I will slash you.”

“I would like to see you try,” Peter states calmly. Then he leans forward and places a kiss on Killian’s lips. For a moment neither of them move. Then Peter opens his mouth slightly, deepening the kiss and Killian hates himself for following suit but he does nevertheless. Their tongues touch, Killian grabs Peter’s waist desperately, Peter leans into the kiss heavily and then –

He is gone. Standing several feet away from Killian, looking smug and self-righteous. Killian _hates_ him.

“I will be back,” Peter assures him. “To collect my price. Until then, have fun my dear, _dear_ Captain.”

Killian blinks and Peter is gone, leaving behind only empty chains and a few bloodstains to prove he was even there to begin with.

 

 

 


End file.
